


Why Can't I Fly?

by My_Alter_Ego



Series: “The Beginning, The Middle, and The Ending” [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, a promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:41:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25744495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Alter_Ego/pseuds/My_Alter_Ego
Summary: Perhaps Peter and Neal are more alike than they think. This third fiction in my series takes place at the end of Season 5 when Peter tells Neal the DOJ has reneged on their deal to set him free. Another “middle” story.
Relationships: Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Series: “The Beginning, The Middle, and The Ending” [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1844380
Kudos: 32





	Why Can't I Fly?

Even as a young child, a serious and introspective Peter loved dinosaurs. One day in kindergarten, he had asked his teacher a question after she had read her little students a book about pterodactyls. “Why can’t I fly?” he had raised his hand innocently. While the rest of the class tittered, she had patiently replied, “Because, Peter, we are all humans called homo sapiens, and our species cannot fly.”

When Peter reached college, he had dreams of zeroing in like a hawk right into the big leagues as a baseball pitcher. His mother tried to tamp down his enthusiasm. “Peter, darling, perhaps you shouldn’t aspire so high. I don’t want you to be disappointed if it doesn’t happen.”

Of course, his mother had been right to warn him. After Peter’s debilitating shoulder injury wrecked any chances of a career in sports, his father took him aside. “Son, the Burke men keep their feet planted firmly on the ground without visions of glory. It was a good thing I encouraged you to major in college math. Now that’s a more realistic future rather than some high-flying pipedream.”

When Peter married Elizabeth, he was just beginning his new vocation at the Bureau. “If I work hard and impress my superiors, I think I could go far,” he had eagerly informed his new wife. “Reese Hughes seems to be grooming me for bigger and better things, and if I’m dedicated, I think my career could take off like a bird in flight.”

El wrinkled her forehead and cradled her husband’s chin in her hand. “Hon, the White Collar Division is a comfortable and safe little nest. You won’t have Mafia type gangsters trying to kill you, so please don’t decide to one day try your wings in another more dangerous arena.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Neal was just a young child not yet in school. One summer’s day, he was lying on his back in the grass and staring up at the blue sky and fluffy clouds. It was a tranquil backdrop for birds who fluttered aloft and then seemed to glide effortlessly on the air thermals. That night as his mother was giving him a bath, he had innocently asked, “Why can’t I fly, Mama?”

“Because you’re a boy, not a bird, Neal,” she had answered succinctly. “Now just hold still and stop with the silly questions.”

When he was six and a first grader, Neal had asked Ellen the same question. “Why can’t I fly, Aunt Ellen?”

The doting chaperone had smiled at the inquisitive little boy. “Because, Neal, you have arms, not wings, attached to your body.”

“I don’t have fins like a fish either, but I can still swim,” he argued with a child’s logic.

Ellen had given him a fond look. “Why don’t we debate the issue another day, my clever little man. Right now, I think I have a yen for some ice cream. You game?”

When Mozzie came back into Neal’s life, the bald man was, at various times, a patient audience listening to Neal rant. “I want to fly away from here, Moz, but this damn tracking anklet is stopping me from soaring into the ether.”

“You got too close to the sun just like Icarus, mon frère, so your wings got burned,” Mozzie intoned like a wise Greek oracle. “No flying for you anytime soon,” he added for good measure.

~~~~~~~~~~

Neal had almost reached the four-year benchmark in his parole. Unfortunately, Peter was now faced with the daunting responsibility of telling his friend that the Department of Justice was reneging on their agreement to set him free. The two men were sitting on Peter’s front steps when he delivered the bad news. Neal had looked Peter squarely in the eye, but his words were not what his handler expected to hear.

“Did you ever envision yourself standing on a very high cliff, Peter?” Neal had begun in a soft faraway voice. “Sometimes, that is how I visualize myself. I see the steep drop below me and the wide blue sky above, and then I’m stretching out my arms just as I step into the void. Instead of dropping like a stone, I’m rising majestically, higher and higher, away from my troubles and the tethers that bind me to the earth. I’m actually flying and it’s a feeling like nothing you can imagine.”

Peter felt the weight in his chest and remembered all the disappointments in his own life that had kept him grounded as well. Somehow, he had to reach out to his friend. “Neal, did you ever hear that old story about the bumblebee? According to entomologists, the bulky mass of the bumblebee’s body in proportion to its stubby little wings shouldn’t allow it fly. Aerodynamically it shouldn’t be possible because it defies the laws of physics. But I guess nobody thought to explain that to the little critter who blithely ignores that caveat and flies from flower to flower in blissful ignorance.”

Neal’s face takes on a mocking expression. “I think somebody just recently debunked that myth, Peter. Some college biologist with too much time on his hands did some research and explained the flight of the bumblebee is possible because they flap their wings back and forth rather than up and down, sort of like how a plane can obtain lift after takeoff.”

“You’re missing my point, Buddy,” Peter responds. “What I’m saying is we shouldn’t listen to people tell us why we can’t do something. We just have to believe in ourselves to get the job done. I think, if the two of us put our heads together, we’ll figure out a solution to your problem. Maybe it’s time that we both soar like eagles.”

Neal looks at his mentor speculatively, and his dejection and resentment seems less palpable. “You’d actually step off a cliff for me, Peter?” he asks softly.

“Yeah, I would,“ Peter smiles affectionately. “Maybe that’s because I’ve always had a soft spot for little bumblebees.”


End file.
